


In Peace and Plenty

by taoroo



Series: In this place, forever [3]
Category: Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: Domestic Discipline, Everyone is a precious cinnamon roll, Family Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taoroo/pseuds/taoroo
Summary: Imperious visits Aquila and our favourite dysfunctional family share a moment of peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments on this series! I have a few stories in mind, just need to get round to writing them! Let me know what you think. T x

Imperious smiled as he strolled at an easy pace through Aquila’s markets. The city had a cheerful atmosphere, far removed from the last time he had visited, the residents at that time still reeling from the execution of their bishop; a devil worshipper of the worst order.

Imperious had stayed that time long enough to give his sworn testimony in the case of the lovers Navarre and Isabeau, and to preside over their renewal of vows, with guests in attendance at a small ceremony beside the river.

Two of those guests had been an ass and a horse, granted (and the other a Mouse) but given the young couple’s history they weren’t much fussed over such trivial matters of species.

“A carrot for your ass, father?”

Imperious turned his attention to the merchant behind a stall heaped with vegetables.

“Hmm? Oh, no, thank you, madam. Abraham and I are on a diet,” he said with a smile and a pat to his expansive gut.

A crash and the squabbling of frantic chickens sounded further down the street, followed by much commotion from that direction.

“Oh dear,” Imperious said, craning his neck to try and see over the crowd, “do you think anybody is hurt?”

The stall’s owner gave a hearty chuckle. “Only if he gets caught,” she said.

“I beg pardon?”

“Oh,” the lady flapped a hand dismissively, “not to worry, father. It’s  more than likely work of that young scallawag, Navarre.”

Imperious’ bushy eyebrows shot upward to join his bushier hair. “You’re speaking of the guard captain?”

“Oh, bless you, father,” the lady cackled. “No, I mean his young ward. If there’s a ruckus in Aquila, it’s as likely as not that young Philippe Navarre is behind it!”

“His ward, hmm?” Imperious blinked back his surprise and then gave a chuckle of his own. “He is certainly causing quite a ruckus indeed.”

“Yes, well,” the woman said, “the young master just can’t seem to keep hisself out of trouble. Seems like not a day goes by Master Navarre – the good Captain that is – isn’t chasing a’ter him for one thing or the other.”

There was another crash and a whoop from the crowd. A blur of scrawny, flailing limbs, clad in better clothing than the last time Imperious had seen them, shot by, followed closely by four men of the city guard. The crowd parted to let them by, but where some were too slow Philippe made use of the nearby stalls and stacked wares, causing an eruption of dismayed stallholders in his wake. The slower watchmen bore the brunt of the merchants’ ire, halted in their chase and having to pass around the obstacles instead.

“Forgive me, but you said the _Captain_ gives chase?” Imperious asked, not taking his eyes off the spectacle. Philippe had leapt over a barrel of rotting vegetables and had paused to kick it into the path of his pursuers.

“Oh, he does, on occasion,” the woman explained merrily, joining in the laughter as the poor watchmen slipped and slid upon the cobbles, flinging out their arms in comical fashion to keep balance. “But you see the young master so often runs from his comeuppance that the Captain decreed if he did so, that wherever he was caught was where he’d get his just reward… if you follow my meaning.”

“I do indeed, good lady,” Imperious snickered.

“Well, that only made the young sir run the harder, which got the Captain quite put out. So, he decided to make it an exercise of training for his watchmen, and those who catches the young ‘scallion gets his choice of patrol and a few whacks in hisself before the captain has his turn!”

Imperious could appreciate the appeal of such a challenge.

Philippe, on rounding a corner, had come up against a guardsman at all sides, one following close behind to cut off retreat. The crowd groaned in sympathy as, appearing to accept his fate, the boy gave a resigned shrug and turned from the ringleader, hands upon his knees, presenting his backside as if offering a prize. The man, with a grin of triumph, pulled back his hand to deal a decisive blow, but as it sailed forward Philippe tipped, falling into a roll that passed right through one of the watchman’s legs.

The crowd roared with delight, several cheers going up from all sides.

“All seem well invested in this,” Imperious notioned with a loud guffaw.

“Ah, well,” the stall owner said with a wry smile, “there’s some as would welcome his capture and some as would not.”

Imperious nodded shrewdly, having spied out several among the crowd eagerly trading odds on the outcome of the chase.

“How about you, father?” the woman asked with a greedy glint in her eye.

Imperious affected a serious mien. “My child, I am a man of God.” He held her chastened expression for a moment and then gave a sly wink. “Abraham however, is but a foolish ass, and he shall wager a carrot in favour of the young scoundrel.”

At that moment Philippe, who had been jinking around another watchman’s desperate grab, happened to spy the monk.

“Father!” He called, head bobbing above the crowd. “A little help?!”

“Humph!” Imperious replied, fixing the boy with a stern eye as the attention of the crowd turned upon him, a new player in the farce. “What have you done now, you rascal?”

“Nothing of consequence, truly!” Philippe ducked another lunge and skipped around a trader’s cart. “Just a— be off with you! —small difference of opinion.”

“Does that difference regard the relocation of another’s property, young Gestas?”

Philippe tripped upon his feet, saved only by a stall, under which he dove.

“I resent such slander, father!” he scolded, popping up on the other side, “but the Lord is a forgiving sort and does not grudge you your prejudice!”

“Is he now, you wretch?” Imperious snorted. “Tell me then, what heavenly reward awaits my charity?”

“Ah… Some would say charity its own reward, father!”

“I should be away, this place has become too noisy for my tastes,” Imperious mused to Abraham, ignoring the panting boy, who was now climbing atop a stall roof, the watchmen grabbing at his heels.

“I have the key to the Captain’s wine cellar?” Philippe shouted, yelling out as a hand grasped his ankle.

Imperious laughed. “You certainly know the way to a man’s good humour.”

Taking that as assent, Philippe leapt from the stall, eliciting a gasp from the crowd as he flipped easily into their midst.

“I think I shall take that carrot in advance, my child,” Imperious said to the amused stall owner, plucking one from the table.

Abraham’s ears perked up, his usually dull eyes bright with greed. Just before he stepped toward Imperious to reach his prize, Philippe dove between his legs and through the gap in the stalls to freedom. A moment later the watchmen came crashing up against the ass, their pursuit completely cut off.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” Imperious said in mock humility. “Abraham, you silly beast, move out of these good mens’ way.”

Having reached his winnings, Abraham stood stoically, not budging an inch for all of the watchmen’s cajoling.

“Move, father!” The lead watchman gasped, irritation on his sweat-soaked brow.

“Now, my child, patience is a virtue,” Imperious said sweetly. He turned to watch the scurrying figure of Philippe Navarre and allowed himself another hearty laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you for coming so far, dear friend,” said Isabeau.

“My sweet child, for you I would travel to the ends of God’s earth,” Imperious said sincerely.

They had settled themselves in the parlour, where Isabeau had enthusiastically greeted the monk not long before. Abraham was once again sharing stalls with Goliath, and Imperious was left with a feeling of satisfaction that all was right with the world.

“I must say I was pleased to see our young thief, though it seems he’s not much changed in these past months.”

“And nor would we wish him to be!” Isabeau laughed merrily. “Though I sometimes fear Etienne’s hand will wear out before Philippe’s backside ever does.”

“Nay, child, it will only serve to strengthen both,” Imperious chuckled.

Isabeau leant forwards, a proud sparkle in her eyes. “Did you know he is a positive genius with numbers?” she asked. “He has taken it upon himself to act as our steward, though he still struggles with his letters, so we sit together to work the ledger. At all other times he barters and scrimps with the merchants like a spendthrift!”

“You give him free reign of your accounts?” Imperious gave a frown. “Is that wise, my child?”

“He asked so himself, and so we know it is,” Isabeau smiled. “Even if he had not, he will only know he is trusted if he is given trust to keep or break as he chooses.”

Imperious nodded at such wise and noble sentiment.

“And how are you, my child?” he asked, becoming sober. “How has your return been?”

Isabeau sighed, her smile fading in its intensity. “It has been… trying, at times,” she admitted, feelings which she kept from her husband and brother to save them their fretting. “We are forgiven, of course – the pope’s pardon saw to that – but things are never so straightforward. I am not welcome as I once was in the ladies’ circles, though it may have been marrying below my station that saw to that.”

“You do not regret it?” Imperious asked. He knew her answer but had to ask all the same.

“Not one bit. Not for a moment,” Isabeau’s eyes flashed with warmth and she smoothed a hand down the front of her robes. “Not during our curse or after. For all those women may believe me to have lost, I have gained far, far more.”

“Not least a brother,” Imperious smiled.

Isabeau nodded happily. “You are both so very dear to us, after all we have faced together… You know our offer still stands, should you ever change your mind.”

“I am not so far in my dotage that I must settle into luxury and sloth,” Imperious grumped. “The people of the villages near the castle rely on me for herbs and succour, and if I can help or in some small way ease their troubles, then I shall take that as my God-given lot.” He placed a hand over Isabeau’s. “I thank you, all the same, dear child.”

Isabeau said nothing, simply taking the monk’s hand and holding it tightly.

They both looked up as the latch of the front door lifted, a cautious head of messy locks poking through. Seeing only them Philippe’s shoulders relaxed and he slipped through, shutting the door with exaggerated care.

“Philippe, aren’t you going to greet our guest?” Isabeau asked as the boy made toward the stair.

The boy winced and then sidled over, bottom lip caught between his teeth and hands tugging nervously at his sleeves. He came to a stop further than an arms’ length from the pair, wise rascal.

“H’lo there, father,” he said with a wan smile and a briefly raised hand. “It is good to see you again.”

Imperious grunted with false-sourness. “And you too, you rapscallion. When were you last at confession?”

“Er…” Philippe’s eyes darted briefly to Isabeau. “Not long, father.” He blushed at the monk’s raised brow. “I speak with the Lord all the time, you know!”

“And you shall speak to him again tonight, with three Hail Mary’s included.”

Philippe deflated. “Yes, father,” he grumbled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…?” He made to turn again toward the stair.

“Philippe,” Isabeau called and when he looked back with trepidation she gave a smile, tilting her cheek toward him in invitation.

With a relieved grin, the boy trotted eagerly forward to land a reverential kiss upon it.

They watched him go, both smiling fondly.

“Only three Hail Mary’s, father?” Isabeau asked with humour on her lips. “So lenient.”

Imperious gruffed a quick chuckle. “I’d say Etienne has the mortification well covered... you didn’t warn him?”

Isabeau pursed a wicked smile. “He will find out soon enough.”

On cue there was an exclamation of dismay from upstairs and the sound of a brief scuffle. Philippe’s muffled voice could be heard, entreating the Captain to consider reason. The stoic Etienne gave no reply and soon the start of the boy’s penance could be heard, followed quickly by Philippe himself.

Isabeau and Imperious exchanged a knowing look and then the pair fell into fond giggles, feeling much like naughty children themselves.

 

~

 

It was after supper – one which the youngest of their party spent sat upon a cushion – and the four had retired to the fireside.

Isabeau sat to one side of their chaise, Philippe laying across the rest, his head resting in her lap. Imperious sat upon Etienne’s chair whilst the Captain himself took the rug at his wife’s side, an easy arm lounged over his crooked knee. It was a quiet scene; Isabeau running fingers through Philippe’s tangled hair, the boy’s eyes, still a little red and swollen, now closed peacefully. Etienne gazed at them, a wealth of love and satisfaction upon his face. It pleased Imperious to see the once-eternally grim soldier, now gentled by the grace of a loving home. The scene was perfect, and he thanked God for His blessing.

“How often I dreamt of a time such as this,” Isabeau said softly so as not to break the spell. “Every passing day our cursed days seem more like a dream.”

Etienne said nothing, but he reached out to take his lady’s free hand and kissed it tenderly, his eyes saying much more than words ever would.

Isabeau looked across to Imperious and they shared a warm smile.

“I am content,” she said, her words wholehearted.

“The Lord blesses you,” Imperious said. “All of you— Yes, all of you, young Dismas, do not frown so when you lie in your dear sister’s lap. You have received comfort from both these noble souls today, or am I wrong?”

Philippe ducked his head, lips pursed together to unsuccessfully hide his grin, and shook his head, delightfully shy.

Imperious quite understood the boy’s motivations. If he had found himself similarly under such miraculous and loving care in his younger days then his need to reconfirm their kind attention would have been just as frequent. Philippe’s need was stronger than most, and would likely overcome his good sense time and again; such was the lot of a child who believed himself unworthy of the love that he received.

 _And he does deserve it, my Lord. For all his faults the boy has a good and honest heart._ Imperious gave an inward chuckle. _Though if he discovers I also speak to You in this way then I’ll never hear the end of it._

“We are blessed by your company also, father,” Etienne said, his baritone a velvet murmur in the peaceful night. “I thank the Lord each day for meeting you both.” He ran his thumb over the back of Isabeau’s hand and turned his warm smile upon the monk.

“The Lord has blessed us in many ways,” Isabeau said with a secret smile. “And soon he will in another.”

It took a moment for the two men to understand her. Philippe, surprisingly, was swifter on the uptake, his eyes opening wide and then lifting from his position to look up at Isabeau in wonder, his mouth hanging agape. Etienne’s brow creased in innocent confusion, head tilted to the side, searching his wife’s face for a clue to her cryptic words, still lost.

“Truly?” Philippe asked in a whisper.

Isabeau’s smile widened and she nodded, eyes sparkling.

Etienne’s face smoothed in a moment of clarity, shock and wonder then lighting up his gaze. “You… you mean...?”

Isabeau laughed, delighted. The spell was broken and Etienne came to his knees before her, his hands held out to place reverentially over her belly as if he could feel the life within her. Overwhelmed, he dropped his head to her lap, taking deep, unsteady breaths. Isabeau’s smile broke wide and she laid her hands upon his hair, as serene as the blessed Virgin Herself.

Philippe too was similarly affected. He was knelt up on the chaise, staring at Isabeau still in awe. Unthinking, he dropped back to his seat, immediately shooting up with a pained yelp, hands clasped over his bottom.

The two lovers looked up, startled – Etienne with tears in his eyes – and then both began to laugh. Imperious joined in, hearty and joyful, until tears ran down his face.

“This calls for celebration,” he said, rising from his chair, “I shall fetch some wine.”

Etienne gave the man a curious glance. “How do you have—” he cut himself off, the answer clear, shooting Philippe a narrow-eyed glare.

“Ah!” the boy exclaimed, jumping up, “Let me get that for you, father!” He snatched the key from Imperious’ hand and danced around Etienne, who offered him a lazy swipe to his seat as he passed, scurrying away to the cellar.

Etienne’s scowl lasted until the scamp was away and then dropped into a fond smile. He stood, taking Isabeau’s hand to help her rise, and then embraced her with tender care.

“I am not made of porcelain, my love,” Isabeau giggled. “Imperious says I am as fit as Goliath.”

Imperious nodded at the Captain’s quickly searching glance. “It’s true. Did you doubt our dear Isabeau would be anything else? I think of the three of you, she shall carry the least concern these next few months!”

Etienne joined their laughter and shook his head, still amazed beyond words. He quickly assumed a stern manner once more as Philippe entered, the boy approaching him nervously with a goblet in each hand like an offering of peace. Etienne let him fret for a moment longer and then let his smile return, ruffling the lad’s hair before taking the cups.

“To your health and happiness,” Imperious declared as Philippe passed him his share, raising the goblet high and then drinking half in one gulp.

The three repeated the toast, and they all sat back down, Philippe now taking Etienne’s place on the rug as Etienne and Isabeau cuddled close upon the chaise. The boy took a few moments to settle, finally finding a position on his hip that did not suffer his scalded rear. He caught Imperious’ eye and blushed, ducking his head down again.

Imperious gave a satisfied sigh and settled back into his chair. Perhaps staying might not be so difficult after all. It would be leaving that would be the harder task. He contemplated this in the quiet that descended once more. Etienne and Isabeau were pressed close together, the captain’s arms wrapped around his lady, both with eyes closed, at peace at last. Philippe was watching them with enthralled delight, his eyes glittering in the firelight.

_I have never before seen such a blessed sight, my Lord, and to none more deserving. At last these three have found their place in this world, and I pray they shall live in such happiness for all the years that are to come. For none save You have suffered as they have suffered, and by Your Grace, none ever shall again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I don’t encourage drinking while pregnant but our friends live in less enlightened times!
> 
> I wonder what lies ahead for our dear family...? Who knows.... >:D T x


End file.
